


Stop! I'm Already Dead!

by Mauisse_Flowers



Series: Adventures in Self-Inserts. Or "Hannah's Worlds" [7]
Category: iZombie (TV)
Genre: Gen, Self-Insert, the fun zombie au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 08:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11825310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mauisse_Flowers/pseuds/Mauisse_Flowers
Summary: From Day 7 of Self-Insert Week 2017





	Stop! I'm Already Dead!

“Why are you hooking me up with this job again?” Hannah asks, staring in the mirror as she applies foundation to her dead, white skin. She’s teased her hair a little, making it look more alive than dead today.

Noemi sits on her roommate's bed, still in her scrubs. “Because if I have to come home to stinky “I just desecrated a grave” smell around the house one more time, and the dirtiest clothes I've seen since Mad Max and The Walking Dead, I'm gonna lose my shit.”

Hannah turns to give her a flat look. “Thanks for including my brainless cousins in that list.”

Noemi smiles. “No problem.” She squints her eyes, pushes up her glasses. She points to the soft underside of her jaw. “You missed a spot.”

“Fuck!”

Hannah turns around. She moves to grab her concealer, blender, foundation, and brush. Then she pauses, hands hovering over the makeup she ran out of faster than she did orange juice (dead or not, she couldn't shake that addiction, fuck her dead taste buds). Staring hard at the mirror, she asks, “Do I look fine with pale skin and brown hair?”

“Add red lipstick and sure. You can be a real Snow White.” Noemi shrugs. “Thinking of going casual today?”

“Yes.”

* * *

Hannah is glad she went “casual” for her interview at the morgue. She fit right in among the deceased. Seeing all the offered brains for her to pick from didn't help any, making her stomach clench and mouth water. God she hated being undead.

She could write a memoir and pass it off as fiction.

“Ah, the new recruit.”

Hannah looks up, smiling as warmly as possible. The head medical examiner is tall, scruffy, with tan skin that indicates he's Indian. He also sports a British accent that makes her a little weak at the knees. However, she's already learned the hard way that screwing around with a zombie makes you one. She wouldn't be in this mess otherwise.

“Hi. I'm Hannahlee.” She moves, holding out her hand to shake his. She keeps her nails short, filed down, and painted constantly. It minimizes the possibility of scratching someone down to as close to zero as she can get. It helps Hannah sleep a little better at night. “And I'm not new yet. I still need to pass my interview.”

“That you do.” He agrees. “But we do need new hands around the place, and you're the only applicant who came close to being up for the job. I'm Dr. Ravi Chakrabarti, by the way.”

 _No doubt Noemi’s doing_ , Hannah thinks dryly, knowing she had flunked med school before starting and went for teaching instead. She did great as an English teacher, her students loved her, but she was scared to be around them. This was isolated and a constant food source.

Noemi was currently giving her a crash course for the job so she could survive. Thank god Hannah’s gag reflex kicked in during horror movies and not when she saw real life blood.

“We’ll talk in the kitchenette area.” He shows her to it and they sit down at the small table, marveling at the enclosed area.

“You have a kitchen in here?”

 _Thank god! No smuggling out brains._  Hannah thinks that over.  _Okay. Smuggling out of some brains. I need at least two to three mixed together to keep away visions._

Thinking about how long digging up two fresh graves takes in a single night,  _with_ help, makes her shudder.  Without help murdered her inside.

“We do.” He gives what she'd think is a smug smile her way. “Frankly we spend most of the day in here if there's not a dead body to examine.”

“Are there many?”

It's out her mouth before she can stop herself and she thinks,  _Fuck! I sound like a lazy ass! No! I just want food._

She's so pissed at herself for sleeping with that pretty asshole. Thank god Hannah gave him a fake name and number, feeling he'd been off.

“Surprisingly yes.” Dr. Ravi admits, not at all offput. “Most come from the hospital just down the street from us, just normal look overs to see if there happened to have been a murder, and then the actual murders.”

‘The actual murders.’ Like from a crime show. Hannah might like it here.

“Alright. And who's the other underling I'll be with?”

Hannah is curious. She'll need to learn to work around them both. Cracking open a skull isn't easy and doing it without getting caught is harder. Not to mention Noemi can't tell her if checking the brain is a normal thing, so she's doing this blind.

Actually, she can check the bodies that have gone through their autopsies later. That’ll tell her.

“That would be Olivia Moore, or Liv as everyone calls her. Since she's been here longer, she'll be the one mostly looking after you.”

She finishes the interview with flying colors, half thinking of the stir fry she was making tonight. Brain for her and beef for Noemi (they didn't talk about the time Noemi accidentally ate her leftovers).

* * *

“I was wondering why some of the brains were going missing.”

Hannah jumps, turns to face Liv. She swallows hard, slides the strap of her purse so the bulk rests against the curve of her back.

“Brains have been going missing?”

She sounds completely convincing, expression morphing into one of innocent confusion, learned from years growing up as the baby sister.

“Yes.” Liv walks up the stairs, holding out a hand. “And you've been taking them.”

“I know you don't work for Blaine, since he's lost his memory.” Liv continues, the name a bind around Hannah’s heart because it's that bastard’s fault for her being dead. But the fear and anger is gone as fast as it came. It wouldn't get her anywhere in life. “So who do you work for?”

Hannah’s mouth tightens, hands holding onto the strap harder. “I don't work for anyone. That asshole made me a zombie and I need these. Noemi got tired of me smelling like a fresh grave everyday.”

Her hand that was free trembles, flexing with the memory of how much it hurt to wake up and not feel a heartbeat, how she'd had a mental breakdown while crying in her friend’s arms the following afternoon after Blaine’s voided ultimatum. Noemi had got her started on the gravedigging, but real life came calling for them both, and Hannah had to hide what happened to her no matter how “cool” she looked to Noemi and their friends.

She wouldn't go back to gravedigging for no one’s sake but her own. “You can fire me, but these brains are going with me.”

Liv stares at her, hard. Then she heads into the morgue. “Come with me.”

She hesitates, follows Liv to the little kitchenette area. Liv opens the fridge, pulling out a little container. She holds it out to Hannah.

“That was my lunch yesterday.”

Hannah looks at it, then at Liv. “I don't get it.”

“There's brain in there.” She explains. “You can take it home.”

Hannah pauses. She looks at Liv.  _Really_ looks at her, with her white hair and skin, pale lips and sunken, dark eyes.

“You… you're a zombie too.” Hannah realizes. “Why didn't I…?”

Other than Blaine, she was the only other zombie Hannah had come across. She didn't know it was even possible.

She drops the container on the counter and hugs Liv, drawing her in tight, shaking as she hides in the woman’s neck. It had been months since Hannah had hugged someone without the fear of hurting them. It felt good, even if Liv didn't return the hug.

After she calms down, she sits. They talk. Liv explains she doesn't trust Hannah, not yet. She'd need time. All Hannah wanted was someone to actually hug. Liv asks about the visions and Hannah explains she takes and mixes two or three brains so they don't happen. She doesn't want them. They scare her and the fact it strips away who she is. Liv explains Fillmore-Graves, about Blaine, her own friends and family.

“So you won't fire me?” Hannah asks when she's getting ready to finally, truly, leave. “I get to stay?”

“Yes. And are you  _sure_ you don't want Fillmore-Graves to know about you?”

Hannah nods. “Saying their name… I dunno, I don't trust them. I don't care what happened to that family of zombies. The universe is rarely lazy enough to allow such a coincidence.”

Liv stops, stares at Hannah. Actually thinks about that and the connection. “Yeah. You're right.”

Hannah smiles weakly at Liv. “I'll see you tomorrow. I might bring Noemi by since she's off.”

“Sure.” Liv notices the container left. She grabs it, holding it out to Hannah. “Here. You said you know how to cook but take it as an offer of truce.”

“We aren't at war.”

“We could have been had I jumped to conclusions too fast.”

Hannah takes the container, cradles it close. Her eyes are big when she looks at the other zombie. “Thank you.”

Liv smiles. “I'll see you at work tomorrow.”

Hannah thinks, for the first time in a while, that it's gonna be a good week.


End file.
